


Hot Chocolate

by Lex (ConsultingWriters)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Brotherly Love, Fluff, Gen, Kid!Lock, young!Sherlock, young!mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 05:40:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingWriters/pseuds/Lex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After multiple punches to the face, Mycroft decides that both the Holmes boys deserve a pick me up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> Just a brief ficlet for a cold winter night! Sherlock and Mycroft as children and their friendship. Fluff!

 

Mycroft walked into the sitting room, collapsing onto the sofa. Sherlock followed shortly after, falling onto his brother and earning a light head swipe. After a moment's adjustment, the boys settled. Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose, the bleeding having just stopped. Sherlock meanwhile was inspecting the little finger on his left hand.

"Remind me again why I love you?" Mycroft asked, hand resting in Sherlock's curls.

"Because I'm your brother."

"I was just punched multiple times in the face Sherlock, I may need a better reason."

"Because I love you too?" Sherlock tried, shifting on his brother's lap. Mycroft looked down, surprised at this rare acknowledgement. Sherlock was not often one for declarations of emotion, to have expressed something as strong as love was almost unprecedented.

"I suppose that will have to do," he said after a moment, leaning down and kissing his forehead. They sat in silence, both still breathing heavily. Sherlock shivered, it was a bitterly cold winter day and the Mummy refused to have the heating on until the boys got in – something about wasting money.

"Hot chocolate I think," Mycroft said, noticing the boy’s discomfort. Trying to roll Sherlock off of him, he attempted to stand. His little brother squirmed, clinging onto Mycroft with impressive success. The elder Holmes sighed, giving in and picking his brother up. Sherlock nestled his head closer, rapidly blackening eye pressing into Mycroft's chest.

They moved into the kitchen, Mycroft placing his brother down gently onto the kitchen table as he opened the fridge and pulled out ingredients. Sherlock sat up, resting his head in his hands.

“Why did they call you a fag Mycroft?" Sherlock asked, watching as his brother poured out milk into a pan.

Mycroft didn't reply for a moment, lighting up the hob. "Because they believe me to be a homosexual," He answered eventually, busying himself with a wooden spoon.

"But you are," Sherlock frowned, as though this information was meant to be self-evident. Mycroft smiled to himself.

"Well yes, but they seem to think it's a negative thing,"

"Idiots," Sherlock declared, small legs now swinging off the table. Mycroft's smile widened as he broke the chocolate into pieces, stirring them into the pan. Clear blue eyes brightened with glee when he saw that Mycroft was using the real stuff, the special stuff Mummy normally saved for parties and occasions.

"But this does not explain Sherlock, why they were hitting you in the first place,” Mycroft noted, stirring the thick liquid.  Sherlock's tiny face screwed up, his fists tightening.

"They think I'm a freak." 

Mycroft sighed again, starting to whisk the chocolate. "And why do they think that?"

“Because when one of them pushed me I asked him how his mother's affair was going," Sherlock admitted, not meeting his brother’s questioning gaze. Mycroft rolled his eyes, about to say something, when Sherlock cut him off. "Am I a freak Mycroft?"

Whatever was about to be said it died on Mycroft's tongue in that instant. His brother's brilliant eyes staring up at him, with a rare and terrifying emotion: fear. 

"No, no Sherly of course you're not a freak," Mycroft assured him, leaving his task to move over to his brother. Sherlock looked away, still very vulnerable.

"But I don't think the way they do, I don't see the world the way they see it,"

"And why does that make you a freak?" Mycroft asked, placing an arm around Sherlock's shoulders and letting him lean against him. 

"Because I'm different, I'm... wrong,"

"No Sherlock, you are many things, but certainly not wrong," Mycroft said calmly. "You are indeed gifted, special certainly..."

"That's rubbish My, you know it is!" Sherlock snapped, looking up, his eye now an impressive shiner.

"It most certainly is not, tell me when was the last time anything I said was rubbish?" Mycroft asked, eyebrows raised. Sherlock's anger melted as he let out a small giggle.

"Precisely. Look there will always be idiots, people who don't understand you, don't appreciate you and your talents," Mycroft explained, hand rubbing Sherlock's back in calming, circular motions.

"It doesn't make you wrong, it makes them foolish. It is their problem, not yours,"

Sherlock nodded, thinking deeply about this. "It still hurts though," he concluded quietly. 

"I know," Mycroft said, pulling him closer and kissing him once again. "I know,"

They broke apart only for Mycroft to collect the hot chocolate, pouring it into two mugs. Both had been gifts, his own a sleek black one, with a curved handle. Sherlock's was in the shape of a skull - anatomically correct of course, when it was filled the eye sockets darkened. Sherlock reached out eagerly, fingers fidgeting for his drink.

Mycroft held it up, out of Sherlock's reach. "Follow the drink Sherly, come on!" He instructed, watching an irritable Sherlock jump off the table. Marching towards the living room he had to speed up as Sherlock almost pounced at him.

Finally, when both boys were settled on the sofa, he handed Sherlock his drink. Naturally the whipped cream had melted slightly, marshmallows swelling in the liquid. Sherlock dived in, quickly earning himself a creamy moustache. Mycroft's own chocolate was equally bedecked in sweetness, however he drank his with a great deal more decorum.

"I will run them scurvy dogs through when I have me own ship," Sherlock muttered darkly, with an impressive amount of conviction. Mycroft raised his eyebrows, ever since reading Treasure Island with his younger brother two years ago the boy had been obsessed with pirates. 

"I know you will," Mycroft said, straight faced.

"Ay, and yee shall be my first mate," Sherlock said, between sips.

"Will I now?"

 "And ya boyfriend!"

"Sherlock I don't have a boyfriend," Mycroft corrected him, amused nevertheless.

"Ah but you will by then," Sherlock explained, waving a hand at him.

"And you will have someone too?" Mycroft asked.

"Aye! A crew!"

Mycroft smiled, watching his brother coat himself in chocolate. It was no wonder the boy was so skinny, barely any of the food got into his mouth.

"Right," Mycroft said, once they had both finished. "Let's go get cleaned up. I have no idea what we are going to tell Mummy,"

 

* * *

 

Hope you enjoyed it! Reviews/comments/crit is loved and adored. Lex.


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